


The Pain of Betrayal, The Strength of Friendship

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [8]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Multi, Musketeer March 2021, Pain, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: One-shot. Porthos is now General du Vallon, on the battlefield against the Spanish with Athos and d'Artagnan. But he still cannot shake the pain caused by the absence of the one person he thought would always have his back. Written for Day 8 of Musketeer March. Prompt: Pain
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay & d'Artagnan & Athos | Comte de la Fère & Porthos du Vallon
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190600
Kudos: 4





	The Pain of Betrayal, The Strength of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privateerwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/gifts).



> I played with the timelines here for dramatic effect.

Porthos bit his lip and tried not to focus on the agony rippling through him. He was tired of this, tired of the war and fighting. He was tired of being without the one person he had always trusted to be beside him. Perhaps the true agony came from knowing that they were losing. France was losing a war it should never have been fighting at all. There was no love in the people’s hearts for a Spanish queen. Porthos knew that full well, but it did nothing to contain the ache in him. The agony of his heart was greater than any he had ever felt. It was also accompanied by pangs of fear. 

There was nothing less than torture in the fact that he was here alone. His mind corrected that he was not truly alone, nor would he ever be. He had gone through all of this with Athos and D’Artagnan at his side. Men he loved and trusted were looking out for him. Somehow, it wasn’t enough. This was the one thing that would weigh on his conscience and his alone— it was his pain to bear. The men he had seen killed were unnecessary casualties, and that would never escape him. He hated the idea of this war. For once, he wanted to curse being a soldier; to run. He had so much more ahead of him. 

He wanted to be lucky enough to find love. Porthos had never known true and lasting love before. Excepting, of course, the love held for him by Athos, Aramis, D’artagnan and Treville, he had never had the care of a family. That was it’s own kind of pain. He had made a family of their own. Aramis had made him a promise that they would always be together, and then he had changed his mind. He had hurt Porthos twice now, and yet the man still considered him a brother and trusted his judgment. There was no bad blood between them. Certainly, it had taken Porthos some time to understand everything. It stung that Aramis had chosen the church over him. This was the man he had seen through scrapes and battles. They had promised to be there for one another no matter what.

It hurt that Aramis had not confided in him after sleeping with the Queen. Porthos had believed they could tell each other everything. It was a slap in the face. Then, it had happened again when he chose to become an abbé and leave the Musketeers. This was his pain to bear, betrayed by his best friend. Now, there was a chance he would die on the battlefield without ever getting the opportunity to tell him how much it hurt. Aramis should have known that Porthos could be trusted to keep his secrets. He’d known all along that his friend had feelings for the Queen, and he’d done his best to try to dissuade him from attempting any sort of relationship. 

“She’s not a woman, she’s the Queen.” He had made that statement more than once in Aramis’ presence. It was true enough; Anne had been a Spanish princess and was now a French queen. She would never be just a woman. Another pang of hurt flooded through Porthos’ system. He couldn’t be sure if it was from the agony of his battle wounds or the betrayal of his friend. He understood Aramis’ devotion to God. He had always been a man of faith, once destined to become a priest. But why, after all this time, had he chosen to take his orders? Why had he abandoned them when they needed him most?

The diverging of their paths was more than Porthos could bear. For his friend’s sake, he had plastered on a smile and pretended to be happy that Aramis had found his true calling. Perhaps he was better suited for the life of an abbe. But if he thought about it now, he would be lost. Still, he couldn’t help considering what he had recently learned— not only had Aramis slept with the queen. That one act, in and of itself, would see him either before a firing squad or his head on the block for treason— but Aramis had given Anne the one thing that she so desperately wanted: a son to carry on the legacy. Leave it to Aramis to father a bastard with the most powerful woman in the country. . . 

Porthos had often wondered if he would get the chance to say any of this to Aramis. He did not dare to call the man a coward; Aramis was the bravest man and Musketeer he had ever known. He would be back; and when he was, all would be right again and the throbbing ache in Porthos’ heart would cease. But until it did, there would always be a hole the size of the one man he had believed he could trust. Porthos was certain Aramis would be back. He always came back for his friends. One for all and all for one. For now, he would do his duty and protect all of France, so that he could be there to say his piece the moment Aramis returned.

 _Preferably_ , thought Porthos with a laugh, _over some decent French wine and not this Spanish swill we keep encountering. Maybe Aramis can teach me his secrets. Then I’ll have a proper lady to keep me company, and I won’t be in such agony. I just have to survive long enough to see it._ He nearly jumped when a steady hand in the trench next to him grasped his shoulder.

“You’re too quiet, my friend. Is everything all right? Are you in pain?”

“No.”, Porthos lied. He couldn’t tell D’Artagnan that he had been so distracted. 

“I know. I miss him too, Porthos. But right now, we have bigger things that require our focus. Are you ready to earn your title, General du Vallon?” He could hear the exhaustion in Athos’ voice. They were all hurt and tired, but at least most of them were together.

“Let’s send ‘em runnin’. Been a while since I had that kind of excitement.” With the pain momentarily forgotten, Porthos pushed himself to his feet. At least he could tell Aramis that he had done his duty for king and country, just as his friend believed he was doing his own service to God. This pain was momentary, and it would be worth all that he gained from it, in the end.


End file.
